


Dragon

by Kheru



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kheru/pseuds/Kheru
Summary: Beast Skulls has seen a steady rise in popularity in the latest weeks. Tonight's event is a bit special, however: it's time for Yang Xiao-Long to go on stage and sing her dragon heart out.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! So this is kind of short, but it's part of a bigger AU for which I intend to write more eventually. It's more of a teaser, an establishing shot if you will x)

The stage was dark, and a few eager mutterings rose from the crowd. There was a rumour hanging in the air, born of the curiosity and surprise surrounding the performers listed on tonight’s show. The Beast Skulls weren’t that popular of a band, although it had managed to draw quite a crowd in the small, shady bar… And most of the people here knew that there was going to be something very special if they had to appoint another drummer.

Three spotlights turned on, suddenly drenching the stage in white, aggressive light and showing the strange ensemble that was now on the scene. Frontstage right sat a gigantic, carefully chiselled harp which had been sculpted and painted to look like a gnarly amalgam of flesh and bone, its strings almost looking like veins or tendons. Sat sideways from the crowd was its player in all of her black and red, punk-rock glory. Everything in her outfit was uneven, from her torn, striped stockings to her short red-tipped hair barely protruding from the group’s signature aesthetic: a bone white, toothy creature mask, which had given her scene name: Beowulf.

Well, along with the red-tipped black ears and tail that were twitching with each and every one of her movements, creating the illusion of a prowling, lurking creature each time she played.

Further back on stage was the piano – and how they managed to fit let alone transport it was a mystery. It had a similar organic feeling as the harp, this time more bone than flesh with its off-white, scratched legs and cracks running along the cover. Hands on the keyboard was Nevermore, whose back was turned to the crowd. It hid most of the aggressive, sleek bird skull covering her face and the patterns in her half-shaved, half hip-long white hair that turned blue the further down it went, but it sure did put on display the marvel that was the gigantic wings fluttering in her back. They were pristine white, and seemed almost out of place among the rest of the brutal, gory aesthetic of the group… That is, they would have been without the smears and splatters of blood drenching the lower feathers.

The rest of her outfit was similarly tainted, her long flowing dress slick with liquid that could only be blood, despite being electric blue in colour. Surprisingly, she was seated too, throwing a brief glance backwards and nodding to Beowulf.

The third light shone on the guitarist of the group, Manticore, and the massive feline skull whose horns aggressively sprouted in sharp angles over bright purple hair, that faded to black as it flowed down to the small of her back. She sported the same kind of twitching black ears as Beowulf, with a scaled scorpion tail that was thrashing around as her fingers drummed silently on the side of her guitar. The rest of her outfit was rather simple if completely torn: black ripped jeans that stopped unevenly around her knees, a white tank top that had been clawed apart and showing bits and pieces of her tan skin and black bra… She wasn’t wearing shoes, as per usual, and the rest of her was completely covered in collars, bracelets and bounds, from which dangled broken chains and snapped locks.

She was sat down too, and that made everyone who knew the band mutter excitedly. Beowulf was always sat down, Nevermore sometimes was for longer shows… But never Manticore. A few theories were muttered, whispered in a friend’s ear as to why that could be, and more questions were raised about the fourth member of the band, still missing. There was someone, a shadow setting up the drums, but it lacked the flowing mane of hair that was so distinctive of Dragon, and so many theorized that it was the substitute.

Dragon had been on the flyers for the concert though, so it was highly unlikely that she wouldn’t make an appearance… but nobody knew when, or how, and the strangeness of it all was sparking the excitement of the crowd.

That is, until the fourth light flickered on, dimming the other three in comparison and pointing at the entrance of the stage. A loud clanking, rhythmic noise rose in the near reverent silence, soon followed by the slow walk onstage of Dragon herself.

She was wearing her usual mask, the reptilian muzzle protruding over her nose and the antlers raising well over her flame-like, bright orange and golden blonde hair flowing on both sides of her. What was new, however, was the lower part of the mask’s jaw, for now firmly set shut, as well as pretty much everything else in her outfit. She had been known to wear a black tank top and greyish military shorts, but tonight saw her in a black spiked leather jacket and bright yellow v-neck that barely let the scales tattooed around her neck and shoulders shimmer gold under the spotlight. An excited cheer ran through the crowd as she took a step forward, heavily leaning on a black cane with a golden pommel shaped like her namesake, the movement causing a slight rustling behind her as a long, slender tail waved slowly behind her to expose its crimson fins.

She took another step forward, and then another, before finally reaching the microphone stand that sat front and centre stage, a flame burning in her eyes as she refused to slow down. When she put her free hand on the microphone itself, however, the entire crowd erupted as two wyvern-like wings suddenly deployed from her back, made from a similar material as the fins on her now-stilled tail. One last glance shared between the three other beasts, and a few notes began to rise softly.

And then Dragon started to sing.

“Am I brave enough? Am I strong enough?”

The words drawled slowly, a kind of rough grating as her voice seemed to struggle to carry over. It surrounded a tiredness, a silent seething rage that floored most of the audience, rooting them on the spot. Starting a show with a slow-beggining song was not entirely unusual for the group, but from the singer’s own admission, they always kept it for the deeply personal songs. Nevermore had had hers, right before she had torn away her mask and revealed her civilian identity, a rebellion against everything her father had wanted her to be. Manticore had had hers, on the eve of a representation whose profit had entirely gone to funding Break the Chain, a non-profit organisation that helped abuse survivors.

Hearing the pained, frustrated questioning of her own strength and weaknesses was heart-wrenching, especially when underlined by the quiver coursing through her body, hand shaking on the cane as she leaned both on it and the microphone. She was pouring every last drop of herself in the music, the melody rising and rising and rising until it was almost unbearable-

“I AM THE FIRE, I AM BURNING BRIGHTER!”

The next line was screamed more than sung, her wings fully extended as all the light but hers died, and in that exact moment, she truly was a dragon. Body and soul, the embers burning in her blood-red eyes that smouldered behind the furrowed brows of her white mask and her hair lighted aglow. You could almost hear her passion crackling in the microphone as her voice broke a little and the drums finally entered the song, sounding almost like a tribute to her usual position.

The rest of the song went similarly, Dragon singing her rage and her will to live, screaming at the top of her lungs that she was enough, that she was brave and fighting back and that she would not back down… And it ignited the audience with it, cheers erupting as soon as it ended and she retreated backstage shakily, leaning on Beowulf for support on the way back. It was evident it had taken a lot out of her, despite the shaky grin and wheezing thanks she had addressed to the audience.

Still, deep in her eyes, the flame kept burning.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> So, as you might have guessed, the song is I Am the Fire by Halestorm which I discovered thanks to Blake_Belladonna_Defence_Force and the fic Oh my God... They were bandmates! (which I recommend, a lot). This AU had been living in my head long before I read that work, but the song just fit and I've been listening to it on repeat ever since.


End file.
